The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 395

Chapter 177: The Things We Don’t Say-1

“Can we please talk?”

Maya didn’t answer right away.

She searched his face, her breath hitching-caught between the urgency in his eyes and the warmth of his hand still anchored to hers. Not tight. Not demanding. Just there.

The hallway beyond them hummed softly with movement-chairs scraping, distant voices blending into polite laughter-but right here, time felt suspended.

Grounding.

“Please, love.”

The word slipped out like a plea, soft but devastating. It threatened to pull her under.

Maya glanced toward the dining hall. The muted clatter of silverware, the low murmur of conversation-it all felt impossibly far away from this fragile, suspended moment.

She drew a slow breath and nodded once. “Okay.”

Relief flickered across his face. Damien gestured subtly toward the side corridor branching off before the dining hall.

She was about to follow-

When a voice cut sharply through the stillness.

“Where are Maya and Damien?” Eleanor’s voice carried down the hall, crisp and unmistakable. “Alfred, please check on them. Dinner is served, and everyone is waiting.”

“Yes, Madam,” Alfred replied promptly, his voice already approaching.

Maya’s heart slammed against her ribs.

“Damien,” she whispered, panic threading through her voice. “I-I think we should join them first. We can talk later.” She tried to pull away.

His fingers tightened around hers-not rough, but urgent. A reflex. A desperate anchor.

“Maya-”

The word barely left his mouth before Alfred stepped into view.

The moment he saw them, Alfred understood. His gaze flicked briefly between their joined

Chapter 177 The Things We Don’t Say 1

+25 Points

hands and their faces, comprehension settling quietly in his eyes. He bowed his head politely.

“Pardon my interruption,” he said, tone perfectly neutral. “Sir Damien. Ms. Maya. Madam is looking for you both.”

Damien’s expression darkened, irritation flashing across his features before he masked it.

Maya, in contrast, shifted instantly. A practiced composure slid into place, her lips curving into a fragile, polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Thank you, Alfred,” she said softly. “We’ll be right there.”

Alfred bowed once more and retreated, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

The hallway felt smaller now. Heavier. Thick with everything they hadn’t said.

“Later,” Maya murmured, her gaze lifting to his-searching, promising.

Damien hesitated, jaw tight. Then, reluctantly, his hand uncurled from hers. He released her immediately, as if afraid to hold on longer than she allowed.

Side by side, they stepped into the dining hall.

The bright lights, the clink of crystal and cutlery, the hum of conversation-it all crashed over her like a jagged intrusion. They took their seats-the same ones they’d occupied that morning-and the familiarity felt hollow, almost deceptive.

Across the table, the family waited. Conversation resumed.

But between Maya and Damien, the silence was thunderous-impossible to ignore.

Dinner was served, plates placed with quiet precision as the low murmur of conversation slowly returned to the table. Cutlery clinked softly against porcelain, the atmosphere easing into something almost normal-almost.

Alice dabbed her lips with her napkin before turning her attention toward Damien, her expression warm and openly curious.

“Damien,” she said pleasantly, “it’s nice to see you again-in the same room this time. It’s been so long.” She smiled. “I mostly read about you these days. The papers, the news… and of course, your mother never misses a chance to mention you.”

She lifted her glass slightly. “You’re doing remarkably well. Running the business, your accomplishments-they’re genuinely impressive.”

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